


Innocent as Children

by romanticalgirl



Series: behind the song [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Drive By Trucker's song "My Sweet Annette"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocent as Children

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 6-2-08

Marilee met him the same day Annette did, though she knows he doesn’t remember. She’s used to it by now, used to being the girl no one notices next to the sweet, beautiful Annette. Most of the time it doesn’t bother her – there are enough beaus for both of them, even if she’s always their second choice at first.

But this time it matters. She sees him first outside the general store, standing there talking with his cousins. Everyone’s been expecting him; it’s been the talk of the town that the Patterson boys are coming back home. Marilee doesn’t say anything to Annette or the other two girls they’re walking with. She just watches him and memorizes everything about him she can.

His hands are big and he uses them to punctuate what he’s saying, and Marilee flexes her own fingers in response, wondering what it would feel like to have his fingers entwined with hers. His hair is cropped close, the sandy brown making the dark shock of his eyes all that more penetrating.

She can tell the moment the others see him by the sharp indrawn breath they all try to hide, but Annette’s the only one who even comes close to succeeding. “That’s him,” Caroline whispers loudly, telling them what they all already know. “He’s looking this way.”

All four boys turn their attention from afternoon sodas sweating in their hands to the girls, and Marilee watches his eyes as they slide past them all as if they don’t exist, not stopping until they get to Annette.

The girls keep walking, the three of them pretending it doesn’t matter that Annette has clearly captured his interest. Marilee moves past them as they get to the store, ignoring Jeff and Jason and Cooley, and him most of all, as she enters the cool of the store.

Annette and the others stop, welcoming him back home, the slow, shy flirtation starting and building and ending the afternoon with Annette holding his hand and the future stretched ahead of them for everyone to see.

**

Marilee watches him still. She knows the way his hands move and she recognizes them by their smoothness and their scars and the way they curve around the bottle green glass of his Coca-Cola, the burnt brown of his beer. She knows his smell from the time she spends with Annette when he’s there, the double dates and picture shows, spun sugar cotton candy at the carnival, caramel apples in the fall. He’s sweat and soap and sawdust, clean and dusty all at once in faded denim and white cotton.

She tries not to notice, tries not to think the things she does. Annette’s her best friend, and the betrayal isn’t any less for Marilee being the only one aware of it. Sometimes she wishes she could hate Annette, or even dislike her, but everything everyone says is true – Annette is sweet and kind and near-perfect, and as much as it kills Marilee, he and Annette are perfect for each other.

She does her best to put it all behind her, pretending the kisses she gives and gets from other boys are enough, lies to herself that it’s them she thinks of in the dark instead of him. Things go on like that, like always until the next summer. The time they all spend together fades away into the time they spend apart, no longer all of them doing things when they can all be alone together instead. Marilee hears the shy, tentative details from Annette: the delicate touches and hungry kisses that get harder and harder to end. There’s no question in Marilee’s mind of what comes next, though Annette refuses to say or think it, afraid to hope.

The call comes though, and Marilee can feel Annette’s happiness, and she’s happy for her. She’s not so selfish that she wants anything less for Annette. And when Annette asks, there’s only one answer and Marilee gives it, holding onto hope of her own that being there and being part of it will be the end of it, a grant to live her life and stop wishing for someone else’s, wanting what she can’t have.

Of course, wedding plans and wedding parties mean that she sees him, devoted and in love. Still, every sight is one more reminder of what the future will be, so she memorizes them with as much determination as she used to memorize him.

**

She rides to the farm with the other two girls in the wedding, hardly saying anything in the midst of their excited chatter. There’s too much noise and too much food, and Marilee stays near Annette, doing her part until the sweet cold of the ice cream goes sour in her stomach and she moves to the fringes of the party, closing her eyes to the encroaching dusk.

She’s half asleep in the long shadows when she feels a touch on her shoulder and she blinks awake, lost somewhere in the sound of music and voices and dreams. He’s standing there over her and she stares longer than she should, uncertain for a moment if he’s real or a dream. He holds out his hand and offers to take her home, ignoring her protests that it’s partially his party by telling her it’s at Annette’s request. 

Annette. Sweet and thoughtful as always.

She nods and stands, a little unsteady on her feet. His hand is warm in the small of her back and it feels just like she’s imagined it would, though not quite the same as she expected. She can feel the pressure points of his fingertips, and she closes her eyes every couple of steps to revel in his touch. It makes her sway slightly, listing toward him and he lets his hand slide around to her hip, holding her close as he guides her to the car. 

They talk on the ride home about the future with his set in stone (a diamond solitaire to be exact) and hers uncertain. They talk about dreams and hopes and the movie they both saw last week. He tells her he’s nervous and she tells him she’s jealous without saying why. They laugh like they’re old friends, and she wonders if they are, and somehow, somewhere along the way, his hand is in the middle of the seat and hers is on his and her house is there sooner than she imagines is could be.

He walks her to the door and she invites him in for a drink before he goes back to the party. It’s the sticky heat of summer, clinging and suffocating and the ice cream and drinks at the party are a long, dusty drive away. He says yes and comes inside. Marilee moves to the kitchen, the house empty with the rest of her family at the party celebrating his engagement. She digs out one of her daddy’s beers and hands it to him, fingers brushing his. He smiles his thanks and she can’t help but smile in return, catching his free hand in hers and leading him back into the living room to the couch.

She expects it to be awkward or difficult, but it’s easy to sit there with him. Annette’s only mentioned in passing, and instead the world opens up for them, discussing everything from current events to sports to school. She talks about jobs and he talks about family and they laugh as he offers her a sip of his beer. She licks her lips and takes it, her hand wrapped around his as she swallows it down, bitter and shockingly cold. He laughs at the face she makes and the next thing she knows, they’re kissing and, for the first time, it’s right, so right.

She thinks about Annette for a brief moment, remembering her description of all those tender and promising kisses, and this is nothing like that. This is fire and passion, and Marilee’s not sure she won’t burn up with it. He touches her and the beer spills all over the floor unheeded as he presses her back to the couch and she wraps herself around him, tangled up the same way her heart and her head are when he’s around.

He whispers her name and she’s not sure whose hands are whose as they touch and undress each other. His hands are rough on her skin, calluses smoothing over her skin, and she rises up to his touch. She’s imagined this a thousand times, and every time it was different and none of them were the truth, nothing was close to the way he feels against her and on her and inside her. She reminds herself it’s a sin and it’s a lie and it’s going to hurt everyone, but she can’t stop herself and doesn’t want to stop him, and somewhere along the way when he whispers her name when he’s deep inside her, and she stops remembering to care.


End file.
